


Through Fire and Rain

by kemnam



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: AWOL, Animal Instincts, Condemned, Fire Powers, Gen, Government Conspiracy, Redemption, Transformation, animal hybrid, chimera, salamander - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-02-03 10:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12746133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kemnam/pseuds/kemnam
Summary: Roy Mustang had always expected that the day his life would end would be in an Inferno, just like how he had ended so many others' lives. But Roy never expected the day when he became the Inferno.





	1. Epoch

_With every age in the world, there is a sequence of events, or an "epoch", that brings about that age._

* * *

They came in the night.

Though he was never one to keep a gun under his pillow, Roy did sleep with his ignition gloves less than a foot away from his face on the night stand - not that he was paranoid or anything. So long as they were where he could always see them and were in arms reach, then he found he slept a little easier at night. Despite this extra safety, he was a very light sleeper. At least, he was on the nights when he didn't drink himself to bed. On those nights, he slept like a dead person, not even dreaming. Those kinds of nights were, unfortunately, growing more frequent over the past couple of months. But luckily, tonight had not been one of those nights.

The Colonel was awake before he snapped his eyes open. Taking a quick, deep breath to jump start his senses, Roy laid absolutely still. The darkness stifled the world inside and outside with a thickness like a blanket. No stars or moonlight could be seen outside his small window. For a few moments, the only things he heard were his own heartbeat and a high pitched whine in his ears from the blood rushing though his veins. All seemed quiet, but Roy wouldn't have woken up unless something was amiss.

He hadn't been asleep for very long in the first place, though. Roy had gone to bed at around two in the morning, having come back from a rather grueling day at work that had him staying late at the office _again_. Actually, it wasn't so much a grueling day as it was the past few weeks that had been very trying. Lots of paperwork, lots of meetings, and not enough time in the day did not make a good combination. He had stayed late at the office trying to catch up almost every night the past week. This particular evening had Roy so tired that he didn't have the energy to go to the kitchen of his small rent house and pour himself a drink.

Tonight, when the stacks of paper seemed to be getting lighter, Hawkeye had even suggested that he take the day off tomorrow if he did manage to get all his work done. He had smiled at her and joked about how he might just request the next week or two off if this workload kept up much longer. She had scowled at that, not keen of the idea of her and the team having to deal with the Colonel's paperwork all by themselves. Roy laughed at that and sent her home, a part of him dreading the long night of work ahead of him. But it really wasn't that bad. Roy had had a lot worse workloads and schedules in the past, and he still managed to eat lunch everyday. It just seemed like his mind and body were not up to the task this time.

Unlike right now, when his body was tense and his mind was racing to form a plan of action. Seeing as the sun wasn't rising yet, Roy gauged the time to be between three and five o'clock - and by the slight creaking and cracking that his house was giving, there was definitely somebody creeping around inside. Roy knew that if it was Havoc, Hughes, Hawkeye, or anybody else who knew him, then they would just barge into his room and wake him up for whatever they needed, and it very well would have been a goddamn emergency at this hour. But nobody came into his room in a mad rush to tell him that the world was ending, leading Roy to the conclusion that these were people who should _not_ have been here.

Roy had snatched his gloves and thrown himself out of bed within a second, hardly making a sound. Before he had dropped himself into bed so gracelessly, he had managed to wriggle himself out of his military jacket, shirt, and boots. Shirtless and barefoot, Roy whisked silently out of his room. The cool March night air pricked his skin and raised goosebumps, making him alert and vigilant. Pulling his gloves on as he quietly made his way out of his bedroom and down the narrow hallway, Roy kept his back to the wall and walked on the balls of his feet like a cat, swiftly but soundlessly padding his way through the house. This wasn't the first time Roy had ever had to deal with trespassers. Once, a teenager had managed to burgle his way into Roy's home, and had eaten all of Roy's food and drank his way through half of Roy's liquor cabinet when the Colonel caught him. But that was a stupid kid trying to impress his friends on a dare, and the lad had immediately surrendered to Roy when he knew the jig was up. The poor boy was extremely drunk, and had thrown up all over the rug. That was a very awkward phone call to make.

But this was different, Roy realized as he crept up to the entry way to his living room.

He could hear the intruder, or _intruders_ by the sound of more than one foot fall, clanking around in his small living room, which was illuminated by the streetlight on the corner outside shining through the window. Reaching the end of the hallway, Roy glanced around the corner to see that there were in fact only two people, all dressed in black and their faces hidden within the shadows of their hoods. They were opening the drawers and doors of Roy's cabinets and closets, sifting through the contents.

Burglars, huh? Roy couldn't help but smirk at that. He was a man of very few prized possessions. There was absolutely no silver, gold, glass, or crystal within his narrow rent house. Truth be told, he barely owned little more than the over stuffed couch in the living room and the booze under the cabinet in the kitchen. Roy doubted they were here for the couch… and if they got anywhere near his Scotch, they were going down.

Roy stepped out from the hallway and raised his hand, fingers poised to snap. Though he couldn't see any guns or gun holsters on the robbers, that didn't mean that they weren't concealed in some way. He could attack first and ask questions later - this was his home after all, he had a right to defend himself - but Roy was still feeling a little _stressed_ , and maybe these lowlifes were the granting the perfect opportunity for him to relieve that.

"Turn around slowly if you want to keep your skin." Roy said in a low voice.

The trespassers jerked at his words, and he saw one of them reached around their back for the waistband of their pants. A sharp snap rang through the air and a hair-thin line of inferno zoomed across the room. The person's fingers and hand were soon blistered and red, an acrid smell of burnt meet tinging the room. But there was only surface damage, and other than the hefty scar that would be left behind when the wound healed, they were going to be fine. Roy made sure of that. The burglar cried out in pain and grasped their hand to their chest. Their accomplice, slightly taller than the one that got burned, cried out a name and put their hands on the other's back and arm.

"I'll say it again; turn around slowly, put your hands in the air."

The thieves slowly turned toward him, lifting their hands into the air. The smaller one kept their burned hand to their chest. They dipped their chins, hiding their faces within the shadows of their hoods where the light cast from the streetlight outside couldn't reveal them. Even so, Roy could still feel their glares on him. The taller one was definitely a man, muscular by Armstrong's standards. The other was probably a man as well, since he was missing the definitive traits of a woman. Around the edges of the burned glove on his hand, Roy could see dark skin, though not dark enough to be Ishvalan. That was relieving for Roy. He didn't think he had it in him harm another of their people.

"I don't know what you were expecting to find, but you guys sure picked the wrong house." Roy frowned dejectedly at the two other men. "So I guess the question now is what should I do with you?"

"Colonel Roy Mustang," the muscular one hissed. His voice was deep ad rumbling like a rock slide, but carried a tone of sub-par intelligence or perhaps inebriation. But that wasn't what made Roy narrow his eyes in suspicion.

"You knew whose house you were breaking into and you still did it anyway?" Roy growled. "You guys have nerve, I'll give you that. Bet you didn't find anything, did you?"

The thieves scoffed at him, and Roy imagined that if he could see their faces that they would be sneering at him.

"On the contrary Colonel," the man with the burned hand spoke, his voice tight with pain. The fingers of his burned hand spasmed. "We found exactly what we were looking for."

Roy cocked an eyebrow, a sudden spike from his soldier's intuition telling him that something was very wrong. "Oh? And what is that?"

The man with the burned hand tilted his head up ever so slightly so the light could reflect across his eyes, illuminating them into deadly silver. Pale and ghostly, the alchemist in Roy couldn't help but compare them to the corrosive chemical, mercury.

"You."

In a split second, Roy went from suspicious to confused, then to startled as he felt the presence of two other men behind him. Before he could react, one of them slashed down at him with a short knife. A streak of pain blazened itself across the knuckles of Roy's hand, his sliced glove beginning to slide off of his fingers. Swinging his other hand up with the full intent to send the thieves - and his walls, if need be - up in flame, Roy jerked as his hand was caught in the grip of the muscular thief he had turned his back on. The speed the man possessed was astonishing, given his size. He held Roy's fist in his large hand, squeezing tightly and hindering Roy's finger movements. The other thieves that had come up behind him quickly advanced, both of them brandishing knives.

Growling loudly, Roy clenched his free hand into a fist and lurched out. His punch landed solidly on the jaw of the thief that had cut his glove, making them stumble back. Using the momentum of the recoil in his arm, Roy lashed out with his bare foot and caught the other in the stomach with his heel. The trespasser doubled over, heaving in pain. Before he could overcome his surprise, Roy rounded on the muscular thief, fist raised and falling like a sledgehammer. His useless glove fluttered around his wrist as the punch landed squarely on the man's nose. But other than staggering back slightly and groaning, the man's grip refused to loosen and he quickly shook himself out of the shock.

Mustang barely had time to react before the man jammed his fist deep into his gut, hitting so hard that the blow traveled under his ribs and knocked the breath from Roy's lungs. Stunned by the hit, Roy lost stability in his joints. He would have fallen to the floor, but the thief kept him aloft by the death grip he seemed to have on Roy's hand. Struggling to breath, Roy was helpless to do anything as the three thieves converged on him, procuring ropes and shackles and a ratty tweed bag that Roy just knew was going to act as a hood. The fourth thief with the burned hand hung back, watching the others lower Mustang to the floor and hastily tie his weakly struggling hands and feet together. The largest thief snatched Roy's remaining glove off of his hand before the Colonel could stop him. Despair was starting to set in, panic overcoming him.

Slowly, the thief with the burned hand and silver eyes approached Mustang. Something shiny glinted in his unmarred hand - a syringe filled with a viscous liquid. Gasping around the tightness in his chest, Roy struggled harder, kicking his legs wildly and twisting his body in their grasps. The kidnappers threw their bodies over his, efficiently pinning him to the living room floor with their weight. Large, meaty hands pressed his shoulders into the wood, bruising him with the force. Roy looked up at his kidnapper, the pale hairs of a gray goatee framing his mouth catching the scarce light.

"Who are you guys?" Roy choked out. "What do you want?"

The hood slipped over Roy's head, casting him into darkness. The cloth smelled like sweat and fear, as if it had been used for this exact same purpose before. Roy resumed his struggle and started to thrash harder, but to no avail. The weight on his limbs was too much. Not for the first time, Roy wished that he had Armstrong's strength. A sharp pain just above his collarbone shocked him, causing him to stiffen as the needle plunged into his flesh. Within a few moments his body started to go numb. Strength drained from his limbs like water through a sieve. Roy's struggles faded away with his consciousness, his breathing became less and less labored. Just before Roy lost awareness, his kidnapper whispered into his ear;

"We are your Sentries. You have been chosen."


	2. Entropy

_If we continue along with this entropy any longer, chaos will consume us, and eventually there will be nothing left._

* * *

Roy felt a light tapping on his cheek.

"Come on... wake up." A voice said through the blackness. It was distinctly female, and whispered in a panicked rush. The tapping on his cheek continued, this time harder and faster. "Dammit, how much did they give you? Get up, soldier. I don't know how long they plan to keep you."

Roy took a deep breath, but his senses were still slow to return through the drug induced haze. His nostrils were instantly filled with the stench of anti-septic, dust, and something metallic, like copper. The ground beneath him was cement, grinding painfully against the still bare skin on his back and shoulders. He sat up, the blood rushing from his head and making him dizzy. Roy put his hands on his face, which were still bound, same as his feet. The rope that had cinched the hood over his head still hung around his neck as well.

Roy looked up and drank in his surroundings. He was locked inside a long holding cell, with one of the long sides opened and blocked off by bars. On the other side of the bars was a scene that seemed to be taken straight from a horror novel. The walls and ceiling were decaying, thick chains with handcuffs were bolted to the floor centered in a large drawing that Roy couldn't make out clearly, and people in white lab coats going over notes and talking quietly to themselves stood in a darkened corner. Slowly, like ink floating to the surface of water, Roy recalled what had happened to him, his stomach clenching in fear.

"I was beginning to think they had over-dosed you."

Roy looked over his shoulder. He had to guess that she was possibly around Hawkeye's age, twenty-seven or twenty-eight. She had shoulder length wavy blonde hair and bright green eyes that bore into his dark blue ones. From what he could see past her short-sleeved gray t-shirt and white shorts, she had a very willowy frame, with twiggy arms and knobby knees. But she looked... sickly, by the paleness of her skin and the darkness under her eyes. Her stomach was caved like she had been starved. A silver chained-necklace hung around her neck, but the ornament on the end was hidden beneath her shirt.

"Are you alright?" She asked, putting her hands on his shoulder. She was bound just like him, hands and feet tied together, and she also had a rope around her neck. Roy looked past her, to the thirty or so other people that also occupied the cell. The same sickness and malnutrition symptoms were apparent in them as well. Clearly, these people were keeping their prisoners weak so that they wouldn't escape. Smart.

"Yeah, I think so," Roy said, turning his body to face her. "Where are we?"

"I don't know," the woman said with an exasperated sigh. "We all arrived here the same way you did."

Figures. Roy looked again to the people with whom he shared a cell with. There didn't seem to be anything remarkable about these people. Nobody wore military outfits like him - or half of one, in his case - none wore lab coats, or any other type of garment or ornament that would distinguish them from the others. In fact, most of them seemed to still be wearing the pajamas that they had worn to the beds they had been taken from.

"Are you a State Alchemist?"

Roy turned his attention back towards the woman, an eyebrow perked. She flicked her eyes down to his thigh, where one could easily see the silver chain of his pocket watch. Roy reached into his pocket and pulled out the heavy timepiece. It appeared undamaged, except for the deep scratch on the dragon's eye that hadn't been there before. The woman next to him scowled.

"They've never been so bold, before," she said. Roy quickly put the watch back into his pocket. "If they brought you here, it can only mean that they are getting more confident - which means they're closer to reaching their goal."

Roy cursed inwardly, knowing she was right. But what was their goal, and to what ends were they willing to go to achieve it? The woman was watching him intently, her face as hard and focused as stone. She seemed like the kind of person who would wear glasses, Roy noted lightly.

It was then that Roy spotted the mark on her knuckle.

It was a Flamel. Not the same as the one that the Brothers' Elric liked to wear on themselves, though. This symbol involved two snakes twisting around a staff, with wings behind them and a crown above it. It was a symbol of higher medicine. If that mark was genuine, then this woman was a doctor - and a damn good one at that. She would be specialized in medicinal alchemy, much like Doctor Marcoh. Roy wasn't sure if she was a State Alchemist or not, but she was more than likely qualified to become one.

"I was one of the first people they brought here," she said, capturing his attention again. "They told me that they had forged my signature on a leave-of-absence form at my work. I have no doubt they did sort of the same thing for you. I... I've lost count of how many months I've been here."

Roy's sympathy for her was soon followed by frustration. If he was gone, no one would take suspicion of his absence. After the work load he had just muscled through, it was natural for one to want to take time off. And after he had joked about taking the next week or two off with Hawkeye, he knew she wouldn't suspect anything either, thinking that he had actually been serious about what he said. _Son of a bitch,_ Roy scowled to himself. _Hawkeye is going to shoot me._ At the same time though, it made Roy think: it wasn't easy to forge a signature of someone in the military, much less to be able to turn it in and approved. There was no way a bunch of anarchists or foreigners would be able to successfully accomplish such a feat. The only way would be to... Roy frowned. Was it possible that these maniacs might have infiltrators within the ranks? Or, even worse, could they have the same employer that Roy did? Mustang desperately hoped that that wasn't the case. But it would not have been the first time the government had used its own people for experiments.

And when Roy didn't return from however long his requested time off was, when people would piece together that he wasn't coming back and begin to look for him, it would probably already be too late.

"What can you tell me about these people?" Roy asked, refusing to let his mind go down that dark road.

"They call themselves the Sentries," the doctor began, keeping her voice low. "I don't know if they are a foreign organization, or just anarchists. But they aren't stupid. And they're good at what they do."

"What exactly is it that they do?"

Her eyes darkened. "Human transmutation. Of the foulest kind," the doctor spat. Roy scowled as well, looking out into the lab once more. Suddenly, the diagram on the floor became apparent. It was a circle.

"Chimeras," Mustang growled. Damn, why was it always chimeras?

"I'm afraid it gets worse," the doctor continued. "I don't exactly know what their goal is, but I know it involves over-turning the government. I think they are also in the midst of some kind of war. They're planning something. Something big. I don't know how soon, but they are going to keep trying and trying until they get the results they want."

Roy looked back at her. Her eyes had gone shiny with tears. Whatever gruesome experiment these Sentries were doing, the people in the cell had front row seats to the results, as well as insight to their own dark fate. Roy couldn't blame her for being scared. He looked at the very large transmutation circle on the other side of the bars, his mind quickly cataloging the different parts and pieces. The pentagon as the structural support for the alchemy as well as the ancient words written on the outside were all tell tale signs for low level human transmutation – perfect for making chimeras.

"So what do they want?" Roy growled, although he already had a pretty good idea.

The doctor sighed again. "They want to be able to make a chimera that is human only in appearance. Everything else... well, that doesn't really matter." She paused, swallowing. "They want a pawn that can infiltrate organizations without raising suspicion and take it down from the inside, but also have the means of being the big guns in the ranks when the real war begins."

_Sounds like the perfect soldier,_ Roy thought grimly, his hands clenching along with his gut in anger.

"They're calling these things 'Nostrums'." The doctor must have seen the look on Roy's face. "A nostrum is a medicine with unproved effectiveness and unknown ingredients. It's a fancy scientific word for _fake_."

Before Roy could follow up with another question, the doors on the other side of the room burst open, making everyone snap to attention. In walked a group of men all dressed in black. They dispersed through the room, scientists scattering about like frightened cats as men began to take position on the perimeter. Roy saw that one of the men, a particularly well-muscled one with a bald head also sported a gray goatee and mustache. One of the thieves from the night before.

Another man remained in the center of the room, separate from the others. His thick, dark-skinned arms crossed over his broad chest. He was a man of intimidating stature, the sides of his head were shaved as if he was a military man like Fallman. The dark orange hair on the top of his head was long, however, and pulled back into a pony tail. But what caught and held Roy's attention of the man was that he had shiny silver eyes and one of his hands was wrapped in a bandage.

"That's Rams," The doctor whispered behind him. "He's in charge of this whole operation."

"Is he the one doing the alchemy, too?"

"… No…" The doctor said very quietly.

Roy's scowl deepened as he set his eyes on the man called Rams. Rams' silver eyes swept the room, patiently watching as the gaggle of scientists began to prepare the room. As he looked within the holding cell with all the prisoners, he locked gazes with Mustang. The man definitely had the look that one gets once they have served in some sort of armed forces. Roy knew this look well. He saw it everyday in his subordinates, in Hughes, and in the mirror. Rams smirked and waved his bandaged hand at the Colonel. Roy spotted his ignition gloves poking out from the belt of Rams pants. He clenched his fists, thinking he would give anything in the world to have those gloves with him so he could burn that smug little grin right off the man's face.

The scientists were consulting with one another as well as with Rams, showing him notes and waving their arms around in big gestures. A couple scientists had brought out buckets of water and splashed them over the transmutation circle on the ground, effectively erasing it. Roy looked back at the doctor.

"The last transmutation failed," she said, reading his question. "Well, it didn't fail, per say. But it didn't result in what they wanted."

Roy nodded and turned back to the process going on. After the circle had been scrubbed away, the scientists began consulting again, this time louder. Roy could only pick up a few words here and there. They said the word 'results' a lot, along with 'compatibility', 'stability', 'duration', and 'nostrum'. The rest was just gobbledygook of medical and biological terms that Mustang didn't understand. Even so, Roy had a pretty good idea of what they were saying; not good enough. 

When one of the men dressed in black started walking towards the holding cell, Mustang's heart clenched. Him and the rest of the prisoners backed away from the bars, but the doctor remained strangely calm, her face cold like steel. The man pulled out some keys and unlocked the metal door, pulling it open with a creak. His eyes were locked on the corner that Mustang and the doctor were sitting in - more specifically on the doctor herself. Mustang found himself sliding into a protective position in front of her. There was no way that he was going to let these psycho's turn his only ally into a chimera. Mustang tensed his muscles, getting ready for a fight.

But the doctor put her hands on his shoulder once again, startling him out of his battlemind. Her eyes were sad when he looked at her. She stood up and shuffled towards the man, as best as her bound feet could carry her. Once she was outside the cell, her ropes were untied, and she rubbed her wrists. But the man didn't leave the cell. He scanned the prisoners, all of whom cowered under his gaze. His eyes lingered on Mustang a little while longer. He reached a hand out. Roy flinched and shut his eyes tight.

"No! Please, no!"

The young man with brown hair that was sitting right next to Mustang screamed as his arm was grabbed. He was pulled to his feet and dragged out of the cell into the room where the doctor was speaking with the scientists, instructing them in drawing a new and slightly altered transmutation circle. The door to the cell was shut with a loud _clang_ that echoed through the room. The young man struggled the entire time, begging and pleading. But to no avail - his strength was gone. He was easily clasped into the chains that were bolted to the floor, tears streaming down his face. The scientists continued to draw the transmutation circle around him, the rest of the prisoners and the doctor looking on with unease in their eyes. But the prisoners couldn't help to breathe a sigh of relief - they would live until the next test, however long that would be.

The crying man was trembling in the middle of the now finished transmutation circle. He looked up at the doctor as she approached the edge of the circle.

"Please…" He whimpered. "I have a wife…I have a child…"

The man broke down again. The doctor regarded the man sadly as the rest of the scientists backed away. The doors opened again and a man led an animal that looked like a dog with black fur on a chain into the room. But the creature was in poor health as well. It was growling and snarling, pulling on its chain with no apparent strength. From where Roy sat, he could count the ribs on the animals sides. The handler dragged it into the circle and snapped its chains to the ground next to the crying man, keeping its head low and inhibiting its movements. The poor man in the circle stared in horror at the animal, to his own reflection in the dog's wide, wild eyes.

"Please!" He started again, struggling against his chains with more vigor. The dog seemed to sense his fear and growled louder, trying to move its legs and head but failing. "Please don't do this! No! No! No!"

Mustang watched with horrified fixation. The doctor stepped up to the circle, tears brimming in her eyes. The man continued to thrash and pull against his chains, both his cries and the animals growls filling the air. Rams, the scientists, and the rest of the people in the room and in the holding cell watched in quiet anticipation. It seemed like the world was holding its breath. Mustang almost missed the doctor's whisper.

"I'm sorry."

She knelt and slammed her hands on the ground into the fresh red paint of the circle. The circle blazed to life with blue light, making the rest of the room seem dark in comparison. The man screamed, and the animal shrieked. It was such a horrendous mixture of sound that Roy's very bones seemed to tremble and freeze by fear. The man and the animal started to emit their own light from within, their structures drinking in the transmutation and breaking down. The doctor had her eyes trained on the forms in front of her, never blinking against the brightness. The cries of the man and the dog continued, twisting and combining into one single noise that was so unnatural, Roy thought it was a trick of his ears for a moment.

The light in the room became blinding, both from the transmutation circle as well as from the two beings in the center. The hairs on Mustangs arms stood on end as the electricity filled the air. Mustang closed his eyes and turned his head away just as the light got unbearable. The last thing he saw was the two lit beings in the circle beginning to merge into one.

Even behind closed eyes, the light was still blinding. The sounds were still haunting. The pounding in his chest was almost painful, but Roy didn't dare open his eyes. He didn't have the stomach watch an innocent man be lost - not another.

Eventually, the sounds and the light receded, though the echo would remain in his nightmares. Mustang breathed deeply, trying to control his fluttering heart as he opened his eyes. The other prisoners in the cell blinked their eyes open, too, huddling against each other for comfort. The scientists, the captors, and Rams, cracked their eyes open. The only person who had kept their eyes open through the whole procedure was the doctor, her eyes locked on the newly formed creature in the center of the circle, exhaustion and horror glimmering within those green irises. She gave a nasty curse of disappointment.

Rams stepped forward and knelt by the chimera on the ground. From what Mustang could see, its body was still vaguely human. Its skin, however, was covered in a thin layer of black fur, and a small muzzle pushed out from the mouth and nose. Long canines poked out from its wet lips, and claws had taken the place of fingernails and toenails. Its eyes – dammit, its _eyes_ – were dazed and confused, the irises blown wide and colored a sickly yellow. Its breathing was labored and raspy, a small whine escaping with every huff.

Rams laid a hand on the chimeras furry side. It only took a moment for the creature to began to panic. He patted the animals side, rubbing its fur in a comforting manor. Roy couldn't see Rams' eyes, but he didn't doubt that they were anything but comforting. Rams stood and backed away, letting two other men approach the chimera. They cut the ropes around its feet and hands, undid the chains, tied another rope to the one still around its neck, and ushered it to its feet. It wobbled on its hands and knees, not entirely sure whether to walk on two legs or four. It settled for a hunched form on two legs and allowed itself to be lead out of the room.

Mustang looked to the doctor, who was standing up once more. Her eyes were down cast, eyebrows brought together in a scowl. Rams was standing behind her, both hands on her shoulder, whispering in her ear. Whatever he was saying must have been really upsetting, as she frowned even harder and turned her head away from him. She jerked in his grasp, but he held her tight. This went on for a few seconds, as the scientists went around exchanging notes and observations. Roy couldn't tell if any of these people were actual alchemists or not. Everybody knew that alchemy wasn't simply observed and taught; it had to be experienced, felt.

Rams walked around in front of the doctor, procuring a wrapped bundle and shoving it into her arms. He then disappeared out the door he came in, followed by an entourage of Sentries. Two other Sentries came up to the doctor. One held her arms together as they tied rope around her wrists once again. As she walked back to the cell, head hung, they stopped her at the door, tying her feet where she stood. They opened the door and pushed her into the cell, then quickly slammed it shut. The doctor hit the ground hard, her arms still curled protectively around the bundle in her arms. She pushed herself up, a small cut on her chin.

Mustang scowled down at her, the sympathy that he had previously felt now completely gone. She looked up into his eyes, her own narrowing at the look on his face. He felt bitter, felt angry, but mostly he felt betrayed. She had befriended him, given him information so willingly, and even a tiny bit of hope. But...

"You're working for them?" Mustang hissed. The doctor widened her eyes, face contorting in anger.

"Of course not!" She spat. "I would never work for people like this! People who treat each other like trash and experiments goes against all that I stand for as a doctor!"

"Then what – " Roy jerked his head back to the transmutation circle. " – the hell was that?!"

The doctor fell silent, turning her head to look out the bars. Her eyes were red from tears, or exhaustion, or a combination of both. Roy knew she wasn't doing it willingly. He saw how hard it had been on her, and the way she had turned away from Rams in disgust. But she was still doing it. She was still making chimeras for the Sentries. She was still helping them create their "nostrum". Whatever her reasons were, they could never have been good enough to justify her ruining peoples lives.

Or so Roy thought. After all, he had thought the same thing of himself after Ishval.

"Do you have children?" The doctor whispered. Mustang stiffened, his silence enough of an answer. "I do. A six-year-old daughter."

She began to weep. Her tears were genuine, that was clear to see. Mustang's heart softened at her sorrow, but he remained silent.

"I haven't seen her in months." The doctor's voice was tight, pitched higher with sorrow. "Her father is dead. She doesn't have any grandparents, uncles or aunts that she can go to. I am all she has."

The doctor hiccuped, whimpering in emotional agony. But she took a deep breath, and sat up straight. Uncrossing her arms, the doctor revealed a loaf of bread the size of a shoe box wrapped in brown paper. Wiping the red paint off of her hands and onto the ground, she broke the bread, took a pinch of one half in her mouth, and passed the halves – one to Mustang and one to an elderly man who also took a pinch and passed it on as well. Mustang switched his gaze from the bread in his hands to the doctor, who sucked on the bread miserably through her tears. Roy took a pinch as well and passed the bread on to the man behind him. He popped the bread in his mouth as he watched the doctor.

His anger was not completely diminished, though now it was muted with understanding. Roy didn't have children, but Hughes did. He had watched that man drive himself crazy whenever Elysia was sick or had a small scratch from playing. He knew a father would do anything for his child. If the bond between father and child was that strong, Mustang could only imagine what it must have been like for the mother, a single mother no less with not much left to live for. But, it still did not justify her actions to Roy. Could she really tell her child that she had done what she had out of love and desperation? Would that be enough for her? The doctor seemed to be settling down, her shoulders still jumping with the occasional sniffle.

"What's her name?" Roy asked softly. The doctor looked up at him again, her green eyes glassy. She sniffled again and let out a deep sigh.

"Brielle." She said. "She's named after my sister, who died in the plague years ago."

Roy nodded, remembering fully well the red plague that swept over Amestris. It was the same plague that had taken Trisha Elric from her sons. He placed his hands on top of the doctors trembling ones.

"I know this is difficult." Roy's mask of calm and focus was a commonly used one, perfected over the years and refined through trial and error. "But you have to understand - people's lives are at stake. Take it from someone who knows; it might seem like your actions are justified now, but after all of this, you might just hate yourself to the point of no return."

"You're speaking of the Isvhal rebellion, aren't you?" She said it more as a statement than a question. She gently removed her hands from his. "My husband was called to action for that same uprising. Being a doctor, I was called to the theater as well, upon request to care for the wounded. But I declined. We had a brand new baby, and I needed to take care of her. I had the luxury of refusing to serve. My husband did not. As a soldier, like you, he was ordered to do unspeakable things, to commit crimes against humanity."

The doctor wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm, the mark on her knuckle sullied by the red paint that was now dry. She looked up at Mustang.

"My dear husband couldn't live with what he'd done. He hated himself, and didn't think that his life was worth living after all the things he did in the name of our country. I know, because in the last letter I received from him, he told me. The next letter I got was a letter of condolence. He had shot himself. He was only twenty-two years old."

Roy couldn't find any words to say, any way to express just how sorry he was. But her story was not an uncommon one, unfortunately. There were plenty of soldiers that hadn't made it through the harshness of the battlefront. There had been times where Roy had almost counted himself among them.

"But you, being a state alchemist, probably saw and did things much more traumantic than him, right?" Her green eyes pierced him. "And you're still here. Tell me, soldier, do you hate yourself?"

Taken aback, Mustang considered her question. In the beginning... yes, he had. Very much, but now...

There was a tapping on his shoulder behind him. He turned to see a young man offering the pecked off loaf of bread which had made its way back around. Roy took the bread and looked at it. Who knew how often these people got fed? Was it a loaf of bread between all of them every day? Or was it scarcer than that? Deciding he was healthy enough to skip a bite this time around, he handed the bread to the doctor. She took it from him, breaking off a pinch smaller than the first one she had taken. Roy watched her suck on the bread and pass it on to the elder next to her.

"I plan to do the same," she continued. "I'm going to live with what I've done. It might not be pretty or comfortable, and I probably will hate myself for as long as I live. But at least I'll see my daughter through her life. See her grow into a woman, get married, and have children. I owe her that. Or rather, it's my duty. You of all people should be able to understand that."

Remaining silent, Roy couldn't help but be impressed. He did understand. The will to live could be strong in some people, and perhaps that was something that the two of them had in common. However, the rock-solid conviction that this woman possessed reminded him of another blonde-haired lieutenant. Sitting back against the grimy wall, Roy smirked.

"Then I guess we'll just have to find a way out of here before it comes to that," he stated tiredly. Though he had only been awake for a short amount of time, he was already feeling tired again. Strange. The bread might have been laced.

"If you can think of something that I haven't already, I will be very surprised," the doctor replied, flashing her own, gray-toothed smile. That smile faltered after a moment. "In the mean time, I'm afraid I'll have to keep doing what I'm doing. If I ever stop or refuse, they'll just kill us all."

Nodding, Roy admitted that her logic was sound. But that didn't mean that he had to like it. They were entering into a very complicated relationship, she and him.

"What is your name?" Roy found himself asking.

The doctor smiled at him more, but her eyes and the tone of her voice had once again dropped to a serious level.

"It may not be best to get to know me too well, soldier." She said. "I've already told you too much. Just call me Doc."

Confused, Roy quirked an eyebrow at her. "Why did you tell me, then?"

"Partially because you asked. But also... I think you can help us." She paused. "I think you can help me." She said it in a manor akin to hope, but Roy's mind went to a darker place.

"Help you with what exactly?"

The smile slipped from her face as she followed his train of thought. Would she be his ally, his sister in arms, and fight back against their captors? Or would he be just another one of her desperate attempts to get back to her daughter, and another step closer to the Sentries ultimate goal?

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see, soldier."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to point out that this is a no pairing story, it will mostly be action and suspense. So bear with me as we get through some slow chapters ahead.
> 
> Please comment and tell me what you think!


	3. Panacea

_If only there existed a panacea for the world in which we live. How simple and peaceful that world would be..._

* * *

Roy quickly acclimated to the schedule of the captors and life in the cell.

It was difficult to tell time in the cell without windows, but Roy still had his pocket watch safely hidden away. Transmutations seemed to take place every other day. If Roy had to guess, the off-days were used to analyze the chimera created the day before. Then the next day, scientists and Sentries would flood into the room at the same time and drag Doc and another prisoner from the cell. With each new session, the bone chilling sounds of the transmutations bothered Roy a little less. He was becoming numb, and that worried him. The results, however, never failed to unnerve him. Each new chimera came out looking a little more human than the last, if only comparing the minute details. Progress was slow, Roy could tell, and he could also see that it frustrated Doc to no end. She wasn't the only one, either. Rams was growing restless, he and his Sentries noticeably more and more agitated with each failed chimera. The chimera would be taken away, Doc and Rams would confront each other, and he would provide her with food. Never much, only enough to keep the prisoners alive. The food - either jerky or bread - was definitely laced.

Doc didn't know where they took the chimeras after they were created. For all she knew, they might have been killed in a different location immediately after the transmutation. The best case scenario would be that they were kept locked away somewhere for observation. The scientist involved with the Sentries had to have something to do, so most likely they were doing their own experiments on the failed test subjects. The thought left a sour taste in Roy's mouth, and he couldn't decide which outcome he liked better. If there was one thing he had come to learn the hard way, it was that death could be a mercy too, sometimes.

The days blurred into one like clouds turning into a storm. Mustang figured at least a couple weeks had passed by and he still didn't know much in regards to why the Sentries were forcing the doctor to do what she was doing. An even more troubling thought that plagued him every day was when they were going to select him for testing. It seemed that the Sentries were intentionally avoiding him - each time a guard came to retrieve a prisoner, their eyes would lock on Mustang for a long time making him think that his time had come. But then they would choose someone else. Doc had noticed this trend as well from her position outside the bars.

It had been her to obtain that answer to that particular conundrum. One day after a transmutation, Rams approached Doc and handed her a canteen of water. But before the man could leave, she stopped him. Roy, watching from his seat in the cell, couldn't hear what she was saying. But Doc did point back to him, and whatever she was saying made Rams quirk an eyebrow. Rams looked at Roy, his eyes a little confused and suspicious. He said something to Doc, who tightened her grip on the water canteen, replying with something Roy could only guess was either a threat or a plea. Whichever it was, Rams locked gazes with Roy again and smiled. He spoke one last time to Doc as he walked back through the only door to the room, .

Doc was harshly shoved back into the cell, and her bound feet tripped underneath her. Roy moved to block her fall, springing to his knees with what little mobility he had. But he was too late, and she hit the ground hard. Without missing a beat, however, she scrambled to her knees. Doc sniffed, screwed the lid off of the canteen, took a little sip and passed it to the elder that hadn't moved since the day Roy had come to the cell.

"So what was that all about?" Roy asked. He watched the water circle through the cell. Although he hadn't reached the same level of deprivation that the other prisoners had, his stomach was beginning to growl constantly, his tongue was dry, and his gut was starting to hurt. Roy found it hard to keep himself from being greedy, trying not to take too big of gulps or too large of bites.

"I asked Rams what he was planning to do with you," Doc said.

Roy snapped his head around, meeting Doc's hard gaze. "And?"

"You're on reserve," she quoted darkly. "Rams said that you were chosen to be one of the first Nostrums."

Roy's mind immediately flashed back to the night he had been abducted, which seemed so far away now. Rams had said something eerily similar at that time, as well.

"I guess that means that as soon as I find a way to make these chimeras to their liking, then you are going to be the one that they send into the battle first." Doc sighed, watching Mustang closely. She seemed small and tired, no doubt drained in both the physical and emotional sense.

It had never escaped Roy's attention that he did have a very strange relationship with this woman, in which she was both his friend and his enemy. They were each others possible salvation, yet they were also each others imminent doom. In truth, he still wasn't entirely sure if he trusted Doc or not. When she said things like that, it became a little more certain. Roy clenched his fists, turning his head way from Doc so she couldn't see the frustration on his face.

"There's something else, soldier." Doc continued. "Something else I've noticed lately; they haven't brought in anymore people for a quite a while."

Roy looked around the cell, just as the water circled back to him. While he slowly sipped the water - and relished the relief to his parched tongue - he did a head count of the people in the cell. When he had arrived, it had been a little over thirty people. Now, they were ranging in the low twenties.

"Isn't that supposed to be a good thing?" Roy asked, turning back to Doc and handing her the canteen.

"I suppose technically, yes." Doc took a small sip. "But, it might not be a good thing for us. If they stop bringing in new people, sooner or later, they're going to run out of tests subjects."

Roy wasn't following.

"When it gets down to just you and me and I still haven't found a way to create a Nostrum, what do you think they will do with us?"

 _Ah_ , now Roy understood. He knew this scare tactic well - his foster mom had used it on him when he was little, and Hughes only rarely used it on Elysia. It was a trick as old as time and brought out the most obedient in people.

"They're a countdown." Roy whispered. They were trying to scare the doctor into progressing faster by giving her limited transmutations, by planting the idea that something bad would happen to her – or possibly her child – if she didn't do what she was supposed to by the time the numbers hit zero. Only this time, it wasn't just a tactic – the threat was real. Doc nodded, her next words spoken in am eerily calm manner. **  
**

"We are running out of time." Her eyes moved to the transmutation circle that had yet to be erased. "I am running out of options."

Roy sat back and sighed, adjusting the cloth that used to be the decorative partial skirt of his military trousers that he had ripped off and draped over his shoulders to make up for his lack of shirt in the chilled air. Doc had gone to sit in her corner and think, just like she always did whenever a transmutation was finished, drinking the water little by little as it came around to her. Roy didn't know if she thought about what she could do to the circle to improve the results of her chimeras, or if her head was filled with longing for her little girl. As Roy watched the woman, her face would be cold as stone one minute and then tears brimming in her eyes the next, and he figured perhaps it was a little of both. But Roy also did a lot of thinking of his own.

He had to find a way out of this hell house he was in. It was possible that the military was currently looking into his disappearance - he had been gone for too long - but Roy couldn't wait around and hope that they would find him in time. Running through every possible escape that he could think of with the information that he had, Roy would run a few ideas by Doc when he came up with them. So far, in the days that he didn't bother to count anymore, this was what he had learned: the only way out was through the door that everyone came in and out of, only three people had a set of keys to the cell door, there were  _even more_  men guarding the halls and corridors on the other side of the door twenty-four hours a day, and it was safe to assume that the Sentries were taking performace-enhancing drugs. Doc, tossing in her two cents, was also pretty sure they were underground.

It seemed that escape was nigh on impossible. But then the doctor told him this: whenever there was a transmutation, the number of men in the hallways was significantly reduced, as most came into the lab to make sure the prisoners, the test subject, and Doc fell in line and that things went smoothly with no surprises. If he could get past Rams and his men in the room and make a break for it, it might just be possible to find an exit and break free for help. Which meant, Roy realized that the most opportune time to escape would have to be when a transmutation was occurring.

Or rather, more specifically, when  _his_ transmutation was occurring. He couldn't hope to leave the cell otherwise. And even if he could in the highly unlikely chance that the cell door would be left open, he wouldn't make it very far. If he tried to navigate to the door in the seven second window when the light from the transmutation made everybody close their eyes, it was still a good distance across the room to the door - several yards, in fact. He would be seen and caught before he reached the door.

But... that distance was cut by more than half when from within the middle of the transmutation circle. The transmutation circle was only about ten feet in diameter, and Mustang guessed it was about ten or fifteen feet away from the far wall – the same wall with the only door. That was the closest he was ever going to get, the best chance of his escape.

He had shared this idea with Doc, but but all it earned him was a flabbergasted scoff and a deep scowl.

"I would rather not wait until all these people have been turned into chimeras before you attempt to escape," Doc spat.

"What do you think they're going to do with the extra people after you find a way to create a Nostrum? After you succeed, after you've helped them with whatever terrible thing they've been planning, and ruined everyone's lives in the process, what do you think they'll do with the people who have seen what's going on here?" Roy countered. His irritation was quicker to rise with each passing day. "They sure as hell aren't going to let them go."

Doc flinched at is words, but they also struck a chord within her. Her scowl melted into a sidelong glance

"How can you be so sure?" She asked softly.

"I've see it before." Roy's memory hesitantly conjured up images from the countless number of raids he had lead on behalf of the military. "Anyone or anything inessential are always... disposed of."

The other prisoners around Doc and Roy looked up at his words, eyes wide and full of fear. A few even began to silently weep. Roy shut his mouth, guilt hitting him in the stomach like a punch. These poor souls already had enough to deal with without Roy dashing all of their hopes.

"There has to be another way..." Doc mumbled, eyes cast to the but staring a thousand miles away.

Taking a deep breath, Roy made himself calm down. His thirst and hunger was changing his behavior. But it was something else, too. In many ways, this woman reminded him a lot of Fullmetal - apart from the Flamel they both shared. She was incredibly smart, young enough to be considered a prodigy, but she was also stubborn and reckless. Although, her determination and drive to help people was admirable and rare. It always made Roy feel a little better when he met people like Doc and Ed. Some might consider them to be naive, but Roy only saw hope. He used to be like that once, but life had taken that away from him a long time ago.

Lowering his voice, Roy spoke quickly. There was nobody around to overhear, but it was also possible that the cell could be wired. "If we can pull this off successfully, then the military can come back and retrieve these chimeras for our science division, research a way to try to bring them back to normal - something that you're help would be invaluable on, trust me. But that's only if we can get out before it's too late."

Doc huffed a breath through her nose. "I'm sorry, soldier, but I don't have as much trust in the military as you do. For all we know, these chimeras would be killed in their cages, if they are being kept alive."

Roy frowned. "Do we really have the luxury to be pessimistic right now?"

"Can we really afford to be optimistic?" Doc shot back.

Roy only sighed and shook his head, refusing to be drawn into an argument. She was, regrettably, not wrong, however. The military did have a certain... reputation, and for good reason. Doc drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin upon them, eyes cast to the floor. A stretch of silence took over the cell, exhaustion beginning to settle over its residents. Roy's eyes were starting to feel heavy when Doc spoke once more.

"I'm so tired..." she said quietly. "Of all of this. I can keep pretending to be outside of it all, look at everything from a scientific point of view, or keep telling myself I have no choice. But I know...that if I'm still alive after all of this-"

"When," Roy interjected. "When we make it out of this alive."

"...When we make it out of this alive," Doc continued. "I won't be the same. I don't think I'll be able to continue alchemy, or my career, or be able to look my daughter in the eye."

Roy let her words hang in the air. What a shame that would be, he thought, to have such talent go to waste - to have her life come a complete stop much too soon. But he understood. More than anything, he knew exactly how she felt.

"Don't forget who you were before you came here," Roy stated. "If you liked who you were, then it's possible to be that person again, even if only on the surface."

Doc didn't respond, so Roy continued. "I know how this is going to sound, but even though you may be doing terrible things to these people, you also have to realize that in more ways than one, you are also keeping them alive."

Doc squeezed her eyes shut, nodding her head in agreement - acknowledging the living paradox she had become. Roy, not for the first time, felt sorry for her.

"But is it better to die a human or to live as a monster?" Doc asked suddenly. Roy wasn't sure if she was asking him directly or if she was just thinking out loud. Nevertheless, he put his hands on her back, rubbing soothing circles on her hunched form. Whether she welcomed the gesture or not was unclear.

"Life, no matter how twisted, should always be cherished," Roy said, his tone soft. "Isn't that also part of why you became a doctor?"

Roy could feel her muscles tense as the emotional and mental turmoil that she had no doubt experienced for the last few months descended upon her. Should she succeed, at the immense cost of handfuls of human lives, or should she be a martyr, and deny the Sentries their perfect soldier, but also deny a little girl of her mother and only living family?

"Leave me alone for a while," Doc said, moving out from Mustang's touch and into a corner of the cell. "I need to think."

The days went on, the number of people in the cell dwindled. Progress was still excruciatingly slow, so slow that at one point, Roy thought that Doc had actually taken a step backwards. The chimeras were looking more and more human every time; fur didn't coat their bodies, and they didn't have muzzles or beaks anymore. But claws and fangs were stubborn, as well as pointed ears and predatory eyes, along with other traits associated with the different animals that they had at their disposal. Not human enough. Not  _near_  human enough.

Roy leaned against the wall of the cell. His stomach had stopped grumbling days ago, a consistent heat taking its place that was both comfortable but annoying at the same time. Roy wondered just exactly how many days had gone by since he'd been abducted. Did he have a bio in the missing person's section of the newspapers now alongside Doc? Was his team looking for him? Did Fullmetal know by now as well? Hawkeye was probably worried sick - or ragging mad. Roy smirked at that, turning his head to look at the people remaining in the cell. The elder, who had been there with Roy since day one, hadn't opened his eyes in a couple days. Roy wondered if he was dead. But then Roy remembered that yesterday Doc had managed to coax some chewed up jerky into his mouth, which he eventually swallowed. Roy looked past him to the rest of the people in the cell.

There were only five people left. Two men, two women, and the elder. Roy wondered just exactly when the numbers had dwindled so low. Doc was beginning to feel the pressure. It seemed that she had hit a block in making chimeras. No matter what she tried, they came out looking like the last; just barely human, but not human enough. Roy could see that she was getting frustrated. And who wouldn't be? Time was running out.

Most recently, Doc had just finished transmuting a young woman - not part of the five people that there were now - with a large bird, like a falcon or an eagle. When the light died down, and everyone opened their eyes, she was lying on the ground, her breath huffing and wheezing. Her fingers had formed into talons and her toes had curled out with black sharp claws as well, a small patch of feathers resided on both cheeks, and a high-pitched keening sound escaped her throat.

Rams knelt down next to her, like he had with all the others before her. Her frightened gold eyes looked up at him. Then Rams stepped away, and a few men stepped up to her. They tied the lead rope to the rope around her neck, jerking it a few times to get her to her feet. She got to her hands and knees, trying to orient herself to her new body. She situated her feet under her, her taloned-toes splaying out in front of her. Balancing herself on the balls of her feet, she was lead out of the room.

This time, Rams didn't even talk to Doc. He just looked at her, and she glared back. Rams turned to look at Roy in the cell, and frowned. He walked out of the room, without giving her food or water. Doc was retied, and shoved back into the cell. Roy, having gotten into the habit of catching her when she fell so she wouldn't get hurt even further, braced himself. She was grateful to not have her face banged up, but this time, after she had fallen onto Mustangs arms and lap, she scrambled up and away from him quickly. She was breathing hard, her eyes wild as she looked over the remaining people in the cell. The five of them plus Roy stared back at her. She turned and crawled to the bars of the cell, peering out at the transmutation circle she had just stood at. Her face was bordering hysterical, her hands gripped the bars tightly, turning white.

What happened next was something Roy would never forget.

Everyone, including the scientists who lingered about after the transmutation, jumped as Doc loosed a blood curdling scream and slammed her head against the bars. Her cry filled the room along with the reverberating clang, and Roy could feel it thrumming his heart with its sheer panic and hopelessness. Doc leaned back and slammed her head against the bars again, this time making blood fly as she split her forehead open. Mustang leapt at her, grabbing her and pulling her away before she could do it again. She thrashed and kicked in his grasp so much that even Roy was having a hard time keeping hold of her. She rolled away from him and this time made a lunge for the wall. She leapt up off her feet and launched herself at the concrete, cracking her head against it with such force that dust trickled down from the ceiling.

Mustang grabbed at her again, latching onto her ankles and dragging her away from the wall as she screamed and protested. The other prisoners – save for the old man – grabbed her too, holding her down with their weak muscles. But Doc was weak too, and her struggles did little against the five people holding her down. Eventually she stopped, weeping and shivering on the concrete floor. Mustang and the rest of the prisoners were shaken from Doc's sudden break down. They looked at each other, and then all their gazes eventually settled on Roy. He looked down at Doc, determined that she wasn't going to hurt herself again, and nodded at the rest of the prisoners. They backed away slowly, crawling back to their spots in the cell with sad looks back at Doc.

Doc was staring at the ceiling, tears pooling in her eyes, jaw clenched shut and trembling. She had a large cut on her forehead that bled freely as well as cuts across her nose and under her eye. Her blond hair was matted with blood. The dark crimson was in such dark contrast with her eyes, that the blood along with her tears made them seem like they were glowing. Roy moved closer to her head, moving her upper body to rest on top of his tattered military trousers. She turned so her back was facing him, but settled into him. Roy took his tattered skirt-made-cowl from his shoulders and draped it over her. He was not very good at comforting people. Rubbing backs was about as good as he got. So he did that now, but he suspected that the effect had long ago worn off. If it had, and Roy was just wasting his energy by doing so, Doc gave no sign of it.

They stayed like that for a while, Doc silently crying in Roy's lap while he numbly rubbed circles into her back. The rest of the scientists had left after the debacle, and it was quiet all around. Doc stopped shivering, and her breathing had steadied out. Her eyes were still open, staring blankly at the circle beyond the bars. Roy was just about to fall asleep when Doc spoke up.

"Brielle would be turning seven soon." She said quietly. "I was going to surprise her with a puppy. She had been begging for one for months. I had one all picked out, a female golden retriever puppy from a rescue agency. They kept her on reserve for me, but I don't know how long ago that was."

Roy chuckled at that. He could remember when he had berated his aunt non-stop for an animal when he was young as well.

"When I was a child, the only animals I could claim were three red Koi fish with long white fins in a tank in my parents living room." Doc smiled gently, as if the memory was pleasant to her. "What about you, soldier?" She asked suddenly. Knowing a distraction when he saw one, Roy indulged her and thought about that question for a while.

"When I was around nine years old," he started, letting the memories come back. "I had a pet salamander that lasted a good ten years before it died. She was missing a leg when I first found her, but then within a couple weeks the leg had completely grown back."

Doc smiled at that. "My firm has always been trying to find a way to utilize the salamander family's amazing regenerative abilities. They can grow back legs, organs, even eyeballs."

"I just remember being fascinated by the alchemical symbol of the salamander." Roy grinned, the memory pleasing. " And, of course, the myths. There are old legends that salamanders are fireproof."

"I've heard those legends." Doc said, turning on her side to look up at him. "Isn't there also something about them being the very embodiment of flame?"

"Elementals, if I remember right," Roy corrected.

Doc sighed and turned back over. "Turns out that people only thought that because they crawled out of rotting logs after they were put into a campfire."

"I was studying alchemy when I had her," Roy mused. "I came across a book called 'The History of Flame and its Evolution' by one Berthold Hawkeye. The very first chapter described how fire was brought to man by these flaming lizards that nestled amongst the coals and remained unharmed by the flames. I was hooked instantly. I remember it was after I read that book that I decided that I wanted to find this Hawkeye man and study under him."

"You… studied flame alchemy?" Doc asked quietly. She looked up at him, wonder in her eyes. Roy and Doc had decidedly kept their names secret from each other, and she had compensated by always calling him 'soldier'. But now, with that little bit of information added to what she already knew about him, Roy figured that she had just realized who he was. He smiled down at her, giving her a nod and a wink.

"If I had known what I was getting into beforehand, I might have gone with a different type of alchemy," Roy said rolling his eyes. Doc continued staring at him. "So many late nights studying, burning my fingers to crisps, and I can't even count how many times I had to grow my eyebrows back." Doc chuckled at that. "I'm not saying that flame alchemy is hard, but it is  _very_  complex. Calculating air densities and oxygen content, knowing how to fuel and direct the fire, dealing with arrays within arrays, and  _so_  many different ways to do the same thing. It's almost like trying to understand women."

Doc had gone very still. She sat up, her wounded head leaving a blood stain on Roy's right leg and the cowl falling from her shoulders. She turned to face him slowly, her eye were wide with something Roy could not identify. Maybe he had offended her in some way without meaning to.

"What did you say?" She asked, her voice in a whisper.

"Don't get me wrong, I would much rather prefer to understand women than-"

"No, no not that," Doc cut him off, she put her hands on his arm, keeping her gaze locked on him as if her life depended on it. "That part about… arrays within arrays?"

Roy cocked an eyebrow at her. The look on her face was borderline maniacal.

"Well, yeah. There are a lot of aspects to flame alchemy, and one array isn't enough to cover it. So I use smaller arrays within a large one. The supports are inside each other as well," Roy explained, thinking back to the array on his glove. "Triangles, since I'm only manipulating air and heat, but I have triangles within triangles with the arrays I use."

Doc dropped her gaze to the side, her green irises made brighter by the contrasting redness. But her eyes were unseeing. They were distant and cloudy, like how eyes might get whenever someone is thinking really hard about something. Her mouth dropped open a little as she gasped. Mustang could practically see her thought process clicking into place in her eyes. He could see the answer – whatever it was – forming there, just behind her sight. Roy didn't know if he should be excited or frightened.

"That's it," she whispered softly. "That's…that's the answer."

She spun around and grabbed the bars, staring at the transmutation circle on the other side. Roy watched her, the calculations and measurements scrolling themselves across her face. Roy got to his knees and shuffled over to her, putting a hand on hers.

"What is it?" Roy asked. "What are you talking about?"

Doc looked at him, her eyes shiny with hope and triumph. She smiled at him. Roy didn't know if he should have read that smile as a reassuring smile, or as an insane grin. Either way, Roy took his hand off of her and leaned away, overwhelmed by her sudden change in demeanor.

"I know how to make it, now," Doc said, her eyes and smile getting bigger. "I know how to make a Nostrum."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm not done with story yet! Updates will hopefully be a little more often from now on.


	4. Anamnesis

_Do not let this anamnesis trap you in the past and keep you from looking towards the future, for there is where true strength lies.  
_

* * *

Within alchemy, there exists what is called a 'dud transmutation circle'.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out what it does; absolutely nothing. But it produces light and electricity and gives all the signs that an alchemical reaction is happening. It was using one of these that Roy and Doc planned to make their escape. It had taken the entire next day, when there were no Sentries around to listen, for Doc and Mustang to agree upon a plan of action. Doc, with a great amount of persuasion, had grudgingly agreed that the best way to make sure that the other prisoners would not be killed if they succeeded would be to turn them into chimeras. The irony was thick enough to choke on. In the most likely case, they would be locked in cages and left alone, to later be sold as body guards or research material - that was usually what happened with most chimeras. Any other outcome was too grim to think about.

The other prisoners, though not too happy about it, had surprisingly accepted the inevitable with little resistance. They all knew that they were too weak and starved to make it very far in the escape attempt, and they would risk getting killed in the action by slowing Mustang and Doc down.

"Just promise us," One man spoke up, his voice calm and controlled. "That you will come back for us."

The others shared the same look about them, serious and entrusting, placing their lives cautiously in Doc's hands. The woman, overcome by their faith in her and their confidence in her abilities, promised she would with small tears in her eyes. Roy would be lying if he claimed he didn't find the whole thing touching, too.

"I will definitely come back for all of you, and I'll make everything right." Her voice only wavered a little.

The old man hadn't spoken up or made any indication that he was listening the entire time. Roy began to worry that maybe he really was dead this time. Doc had checked on him that morning to find his breathing had become very slow and shallow. If he wasn't dead within then next day, then it wouldn't be long after that. Roy frowned sadly at the old timer, hating that his last days would be lived out as a prisoner and test subject. But there were more important things to be concerned with, and not enough time for such sorrowful thoughts.

The plan was that, after the other prisoners were "safe", Doc would draw one last transmutation circle, this time one with a dud incorporated somewhere in the design. After assuring Rams and the scientists that it was the circle that would create their Nostrums, they would undoubtedly retrieve Roy from the cell and take him to the circle. Once he was in position, she would activate the dud, and  _only_  the dud. It would be tricky, but Doc seemed confident that she could do it. They were hoping that there would be enough of a light show to make people think that a transmutation was happening, enough brightness to cause the Sentries to avert their gaze and close their eyes like they always do.

That was when they would make their move.

Roy wasn't entirely sure what they were going to do once they got to the other side of the doors, but he knew it would involve a lot of running. If they could find a window or some stairs that would give them an idea of how to get out of the facility they were in, then that was great. The less time they spent running around in circles, the better. Roy was also tempted to try and snatch his gloves from Rams' belt when he wasn't looking so he could snap whatever obstacles they met into oblivion, but he knew that that would just be pushing his luck. Assuming that they somehow did make it out and safely away, it was only a matter of finding the nearest town and contacting headquarters.

What put Roy on edge was that the circle Doc would make for him would in fact be a completely functional transmutation array. It needed to be, in order to keep up appearances - a dud looked like a children's drawing next to an intricate biological formula, so only drawing the dud would raise suspicion. If Doc slipped, and activated the other circles, then it was entirely possible that Roy would still be transmuted into a Nostrum, and the Sentries would still get what they wanted.

It was a terrible, risky, stupid plan where too many things could go wrong. But it was all that they had.

The next day, when the scientists and men came into the room, Mustang could tell there was a high-strung feeling in the air. Everyone was tense and anxious. Tensions were high in the cell, as well, but for a completely different reason. They were quickly approaching the point of no return. Roy could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he watched one the Sentries come over to the cell to fetch Doc.

After her bonds had been cut, she strode right up to Rams, glaring up at him. She spoke quietly for a little, and Roy could see his facial expression changing from annoyance to surprise. Rams called out to all the scientists and the other Sentries, who wandered closer and gathered around Doc. They shuffled every now and then at what she said, then, in a great commotion, scattered about the room performing various tasks. Some erased the circle on the floor from a couple of days ago, but most left the room with a couple of thugs, and returned with every kind of animal that they had within their possession.

All manner of beast was brought into the room, large and small. Some were kept in aquariums, others were lead into the room on leashes. Roy, in all his life had never seen so many free standing animals in one room. Doc, however, did not seem surprised with the assortment that she was presented with. They lined the animals all along the far wall, snorts and growls filling the air. Scientists began to draw the new transmutation circle. It took much more time than it had in the past, and Mustang could see that the array was  _much_  more intricate than any of the previous ones. There were three different circles, all set into each other. No doubt the fruits of Doc's little epiphany when Roy had told her about arrays within arrays.

But Roy knew only two of them were actually used in the transmutation. The third and outermost circle was the dud, dressed up to look more functional than it was. The other two were so elaborate, with twisting scriptures and arcane symbols, that it made Roy's eyes hurt just looking at them. The words were meaningless to Roy, but he didn't doubt the untapped power that they held for Doc. The woman knew what she was doing.

First they came for one of the women, middle-aged with fine hair. She struggled and cried when they grabbed her bound wrists. As she was dragged past Roy, she stared at him desperately. He tried to give her his most reassuring smile, trying to convey to her that everything would be okay. He didn't think it worked.

She was plopped down in the middle of the circle, and the chains were clasped onto her unbound wrists. She didn't struggle against them, sitting still as she took in deep breaths. She and Doc met eyes, and an understanding passed between them. Roy and the rest of the prisoners watched from behind the bars - four to go.

When the light and the screams died down, the woman lay in the middle of the circle. From where Roy was sitting, she seemed completely human. But when he looked closer, he saw that her hair had taken on a gray shade, her ears were pointed, and there was just the slightest hint of long teeth and claws. Not human enough. But so very, agonizingly close. She seemed more stable mentally, though, and looked up at Doc with a knowing gaze. Gulping as a lead was tied to the rope around her neck, she rose to her feet. The chimera grimacing as her muscles readjusted themselves, and she was lead out of the room, casting one glance back to the cell and Roy. Then she was gone.

Instead of erasing the entire transmutation circle, Doc directed the scientists to only scrub away parts of it for adjustments. As they did so, a man returned to the cell to collect another prisoner, this time picking the other woman. It was relatively the same process for her. The result was relatively the same as well, though perhaps slightly improved. Then there were three.

This time, when the Sentry came back to the cell, he stopped in front of the old man. He nudged the elder with his toe, muttering a demand under his breath. When he didn't so much as move, the Sentry leaned down and pushed the old man's shoulder. The elder fell limply onto his side. His eyes remained closed.

"I think this one's dead," he called out to the Sentries.

"Then chose a different one," Rams said dismissively.

The man looked at Roy, holding eye contact for a few intense seconds. Roy's eyes narrowed into a glare as the man turned away to grab one of the last two remaining men. After he was dragged from the cell, Roy and the last remaining prisoner turned to the old man. It didn't really come as a surprise to Roy, but a sadness still itched at his heart. At least he was at peace, now.

The next transmutation was only a small step closer to the Sentries goal. Subtle traits were stubborn, it seemed, and not subtle enough. Everyday people would probably not notice the chimera in glancing, but if you knew the truth, it was obvious. The chimera was lead out of the room, his breaths coming in small hisses. Doc, becoming frustrated with the other scientists ineptitude, was getting very picky about how the transmutation circles were corrected. At one point she became so frustrated that she shooed away one of them and picked up the paintbrush herself, meticulously working to form the design just perfectly. She stood again, nodding at Rams to bring the last prisoner.

As he entered the cell, Roy and the remaining man locked gazes. This was it. As soon as he was taken away and Roy and Doc were in the clear, then the plan would be set into motion. Anxiety tightened his chest and a dryness took his throat as the near future loomed upon him. It would be foolish to get his hopes up too high, and he was deeply afraid that the plan wouldn't pull through. A warm, rough hand laid itself on Roy's bare shoulder, and he looked up. The other prisoner fixated a look on Roy that emanated with focus and confidence, grounding him to the moment. It was almost as if Roy was looking at a fellow soldier, or perhaps a veteran. Roy never got the chance to ask.

He was taken away, and Roy steeled himself. It all came down to this. These next few minutes were crucial - if one little thing when wrong, then everything would be for not.

Doc was kneeling on the floor making the last adjustments to the circle with Rams glaring over her shoulder. The leader of the Sentries was obviously on edge, constantly stealing looks back at the doors, and it made Roy wonder if something was about to happen. Standing, Doc looked over the circle one last time, and nodded. She turned around to face Rams.

"This is it," She said loud and clear. "This is the Nostrum array."

Rams narrowed his eyes at the circles. "For your sake, it better be."

Then he motioned for his man to bring Roy out of the cell.

Roy was hoisted to his feet rather easily, the weight he had lost making him lighter than he had ever been before. His knees cracked as he extended his legs fully for the first time in a long time. The ropes on his feet were cut so he could walk on his own, and Roy had to resist the urge to kick out. It would have been unwise to expend his energy. Two men grabbed each of his arms and held him up as they dragged him out of the cell. Rams and Mustang glared at each other. A pair of white gloves poked out of his belt loop, almost taunting Roy with how close they were.

Rams turned away from Roy and saw Doc observing the line of animals with over exaggerated discretion.

"No no," he said, interrupting her. "We'll use that one."

He pointed at the far end of the line, to a large, hooved beast with antlers. The deer's white head drooped, and patches of it's thick brown fur on it's body were missing. Roy recognized it as a species of deer found in North Amestris, a caribou. The poor creature would have been majestic had it not been so abused.

"Why that one?" Doc asked, echoing Roy's thoughts.

"It's strong, it's fast, and it's resilient. Perfect attributes for a Nostrum," Rams said as the animal was untied and lead into the circle. The caribou only gave a small grunt in response.

"I'm sure there are plenty of other animals that are better suited to the task," Doc said with feigned interest. It would be rather difficult for Roy to escape the circle with a giant deer on top of him, he admitted. But Rams just gave her a hard look.

"It'll be fine. Prepare for the transmutation." Just hearing the guy talk was making Mustang mad. The caribou was tied into position, and Roy prepared himself to be cuffed into the chains in the middle of the circle with the animal. They looked like shackles that he could easily slip – a few tricks he had picked up from the days of his youth coming back to him. But the men holding him held fast, keeping him in place. Doc looked just as confused as Roy felt.

"What are you waiting for?" Doc looked over to Rams, an eyebrow cocked. "You told me he would be the first Nostrum, right?"

"He will be one, I guarantee." Rams said, smiling at Roy in a way that made him want to spit. "But he is not the first."

Doc's face turned blank with genuine confusion. "He's not? Then who is? We don't have anymore test subjects."

Rams just smiled at her. A terrible feeling, like he was going to be sick, bloomed in Roy's stomach. Something wasn't right. Mustang realized too late what Rams' intentions were, but he was still one step ahead of the unsuspecting doctor.

"You are, my dear," Rams stated.

Doc was not quick to overcome her puzzlement. One of the Sentries came up behind her and pinned her arms to her sides. Doc yelped and struggled against his hold, but the thug was too strong. Roy called out to her, jerking against his own holders.

"Hey!" She cried out. "Let me go! What do you think you are doing?"

"The military has been chasing your friend, I'm afraid. They've been getting closer to finding us for the past week. We are a little short on time, and cannot afford to leave any loose ends," Rams explained. The tension Mustang had felt in the air when all the Sentries had entered the room suddenly made sense. "You are one of those loose ends. This way, you won't be able to duplicate what you've done and reverse engineer the circles against us. Everyone knows chimeras can't do alchemy."

With little effort, the Sentry holding the doctor cuffed her into the middle of the circle with the caribou, her eyes wild as she found herself on the other side of the procedure.

"Who's going to do the transmutation?" She spat, though her voice was pitched higher with fear. "It has to be someone with considerable knowledge of human and animal anatomy, so it can't be him." She tossed her head at Roy.

"How right you are," Rams purred. "Which is why we've had one of our own alchemist watching you very closely for the last few of months. He's considered a genius in biological alchemy, too. Not nearly as smart as you, but he will do."

The man with the silver goatee stepped up to the transmutation circle. Throughout Mustang's entire stay, the thug had never said a thing. He would stand against the wall and watch the room just like all of the other Sentries, and Mustang thought he was just another goon. As he stepped up to the array, it was clear that his steroid abuse had already taken a toll - his physique was bulky and uneven, his eyes were unclear. But yet he surveyed the circle with a knowing eye.

"Looks simple enough," The man said, his voice deep. "Just gotta make sure I don't over or under absorb the derivative."

Doc was frozen with shock, her eyes were wide and she wasn't breathing. Roy's mind was working in overdrive, trying to strategize a new plan of escape in an instant. But there was no way he could break the hold of his captors and rush over to unchain Doc without getting caught again. He would have to leave her behind - but in his mind, that wasn't an option. Panic flooded him. He cursed under his breath. This was all wrong. This was not supposed to happen.

"No," Doc started softly. Then it all burst out, like a dam had ruptured. "No! I have to get back to my daughter! She needs me! I promise I won't say anything! Please just let me go!"

"I'm afraid we cannot take that chance," Rams said plainly. "Kipps, do it now."

The man with the silver goatee knelt down next to the circle, and the doctor began to scream.

"This is more so I can get a feel for the alchemy," he said to her through her terror. "Sorry if it's a little rough." He slapped his hands to the circle without hesitation, and Roy watched his last remaining ally become the first Nostrum, screaming her daughter's name.

The sound was like nothing Roy had ever heard before. The ghostly, heart-shaking shriek of the caribou turned his marrow to ice. Doc's wails filled the air, pain-filled and sorrowful, as her humanity was ripped from her in a storm of wind, electricity, and pain, becoming the thing she had been forced to create over the past few months.

The light was more intense than anything Roy had seen before, and the two beings in the circle drank it in like a sponge. The sounds of their terror gradually became one, the light escalating brighter as each circle was activated. The hair on Mustang's body raised off of his skin through the immense amount of static energy in the air. Roy closed his eyes, desperately wishing for this nightmare to end. He had failed. Doc, the other prisoners - all of them had been counting on him. But he had been helpless to do anything but watch as they all slipped away. When the lights died down and the screaming stopped, Roy knew it was only a couple of minutes until he was next.

When he finally opened his eyes, Roy gaped at what he saw lying in the middle of the circle. The body was still human, but her skin was grey and her hair was white as snow. On top of her head perched two antlers, small compared to the ones the caribou had sported, but still impressive. When she opened her eyes, Roy thought he might burst into tears. The irises were blown wide and a dark gold color, like someone had taken a bar of the metal and drenched it in oil. But the intelligent light within those eyes was gone, and Mustang thought he might weep with despair. She lifted her head slowly, the antlers swinging in the air. She looked around, confused and disoriented. One of the Sentries tried to approach her with a rope. Jerking with fear, she twisted away from them, thrashing and straining against the chains. The chimera opened her mouth, and an airy, resounding cry filled the room. Roy hung his head in defeat.

"Just loose the chains. It doesn't matter what happens to her now," Rams said to the men trying to corral her. They quickly undid the bracelets of the chains and she bounded away with incredible speed, running to a corner of the room away from the door, where she paced anxiously. She looked at Roy once with no hint of recognition, and squatted down in the corner.

"And you," he said turning to Kipps. He threw his hands out wide. "You know how to do it now?"

He had clearly not been expecting these results for the first Nostrum. Rams probably thought it meant that the transmutation circle was no good, but it told Roy that Kipps was simply inexperienced; someone Roy desperately did not want transmuting him. Rams was  _way_  overestimating Kipps' alchemical abilities.

"Yeah, I've got a feel for the alchemy now," Kipps said, flexing his fingers. "I was a little confused because at first nothing happened and it threw me off, but then it started to kick in."

Suddenly, a young Sentry burst into the room.

"Sir, the military is here!" He yelled in a panic. "We'll be overwhelmed in less than 10 minutes, we need to evacuate!"

The scientists started to murmur nervously, bustling uneasily against each other like frightened sheep. Rams snapped his head towards Roy's holders.

"Quickly, get him to the circle." Rams hissed.

His captors moved before Roy could react. His shock subsided too late, beginning to fight back as they forced him to kneel. But his struggle were for not. The chains were already around his wrists and he couldn't slip them now. Roy pulled on them with what little strength he had left, knowing full well that it was futile - but something inside his heart begged him to  _try, just please try_. He looked up and saw Rams surveying the animal line, trying to quickly decide on a creature to create the first true Nostrum with. But then Rams paused and took one of Roy's gloves out from his belt. Putting the glove on, Rams examined the array. His eyes caught onto the little red detail at the bottom the cirlce and a smile crept across his face.

Rams quickly walked over to an aquarium on a cart and scooped up a tiny creature from the bottom. He sauntered over to Roy with the creature cupped in his hand, speaking to him as he did.

"They're not the brightest of creatures, and relatively harmless. But they are excellent swimmers and diggers, also incredibly strong in proportion to their size. I'm sure you'll appreciate the irony, too."

Rams tipped his hand and the creature fell from his palm. Sure enough, with a wet little  _splat_ , there landed a salamander. Though it was unlike any salamander Roy had ever seen. It had a pitch black body with red stripes branching off from its spine and running down its legs and tail. It had dark red eyes as well, uncommon in salamanders. The creature looked up at him and made a small creaking noise in agitation.

"I think you'll find it will benefit you in the long run. You may not be a Nostrum for the Sentries, but there's no way the military will let you stay as you are if you're a chimera. Then you will come back to me, mark my words," Rams said, removing the glove and throwing it in the circle just out of Roy's reach. He spun on his heel and snapped at Kipps. "Make it quick. We still have to get through my transmutation before the military shows up and ruins everything."

Kipps nodded and knelt by the circle again. Roy was watching the salamander numbly, his body and mind going cold and emotionless as he succumbed to his fate. He was somewhat fascinated by the creature as it bounced at him in an aggressive fashion, the little amphibian still so full of energy. Just as Kipps slammed his hands onto the circle, Roy heard Doc give a small whine from the corner.

* * *

_When Roy Mustang was around nine years old, about three years before he firmly decided that he wanted to study alchemy for a living, he had a deep-seated passion for animals. It wasn't obvious, with his quiet demeanor and destructive tendencies, but just like any child, he had a simple fascination. Only Christine Mustang knew about her ward's secret obsession. She had lost count of how many times little Roy-boy had begged her for a pet. Didn't matter what species, just some sort of companion for him to call his own. A puppy, a kitten, a bird, a frog, a snake(that one was shot down immediately), and countless other species were brought up almost everyday at every meal, it seemed. Roy was a tough negotiator, too. But Chris was tougher._

_But it was hard to keep pets in the residence quarters of the night club. It wasn't that they had a policy against pets, though. The Madam before Chris, Madam Celestine, had kept her own cat in the building - a white long-haired thing that had a face that looked like it had run into a brick wall and went by the name of Snowball. Roy loved that cat, too, despite how many times it had scratched the snot out of him for bugging it and trying to pick it up. But having someone else's creature stalking around the club only seemed to fuel his drive to have one of his own._

_"I'll take care of it."_

_"No."_

_"I'll clean up after it."_

_"No!"_

_"You wouldn't even know it was there!"_

_"For the last time, Roy! NO!"_

_"The Madam gets to have a pet, why can't I?"_

_"Because she's the BOSS, Roy."_

_For the longest time, Chris wasn't exactly sure what ends Roy was trying to meet by having a pet. He was busy at school, he read strange books filled with circles and symbols in his spare time, and it wasn't like he was lonely. There were other young children that lived with their mothers at the club, albeit they were all girls. Those little girls liked having a boy to play with and torture, too - Roy had lost count of the number of times he had been forced to play dress up and succumb to a makeover. There were times, however, that Chris had caught Roy laughing with them at their little tea parties. But, Chris mused one night after another round of begging from Roy, it wasn't like he was_ completely _alone, right?_

_"He's growing up, Chris. Those girls won't hold his interest for much longer," Madam Celestine had said to her as Snowball curled up in her lap. Chris had come to her with concerns over Roy's fixation on pets. Was this normal? Was he going to be emotionally scarred if he didn't have a pet? Would he grow up to be sad and bitter because he had never had an animal companion? Celestine had just chuckled and poured her a drink. "I have no problem with him keeping a small pet. I think owning a pet helps teach responsibility and commitment in the best way possible. But he won't be any worse off if he doesn't get one. The question you have to ask yourself is if you think he can handle it."_

_The answer to that question was an obvious YES to Chris. Roy himself had made that abundantly clear, and she didn't doubt that in the slightest. Maybe it was time she really contemplated the idea of letting him have one, instead of just brushing it off like she always did._

_These same musing followed Chris into the morning when she sent Roy off to school, and lingered through her workday. She asked some of the men she serviced what they thought. Some of them shared stories about their childhood pets, how they had been their best friends, had always been there. But there were also tragic stories of them running away to either get run over by cars or to never be seen again. Others just offered advice and warnings about the responsibility. Most had said what Celestine had said, leaving it up to her, mostly because they had wanted to go ahead and get what they came for._

_At the end of the day, she was sitting at a high table by the window that looked out to the front of the club, waiting for Roy to come walking home from school. She had decided that he could have a pet. But what kind? Maybe one little turtle wouldn't be a bad idea. But they smell, and live_ forever _. A parakeet? No, too loud, too many feathers. Snakes and most other reptiles were out of the question. Chris would have been fine with a puppy, if it weren't for the fact that they still had old Snowball prowling the halls. Another cat wouldn't have been any better. A hamster? But those are nocturnal, right?_

_It was at this point that she spied Roy strutting along the sidewalk on his way back, his book bag and lunchbox swinging. She smiled at the sight of him. In the mornings, he left looking like the perfect student with a straight jacket and tie. But in the afternoon when he came home, he was a train wreck. This time, his blue and silver tie had gone from around his neck to around his head. His jacket was tied around his waist and his shirt sleeves were rolled up, the top two buttons undone. It was late spring, and everyone could tell that summer was coming, but it was still cool enough even though Amestris was starting to warm up. Chris got up and started toward the door. She could only imagine the look on Roy-boy's face when she would tell him he was getting his wish._

_But she stopped and stared as Roy did a sudden right-face and gazed into the grass lawn in front of the club. He stared intently at something, and the next thing Chris knew, he had bolted into the grass and gotten down on his knees and plunged his hands into the ever-present puddle by the porch. Chris groaned. She had thought he had gotten over his compulsions to get dirty a long time ago. Boys will be boys, she thought. He was digging in the mud, slapping his hands here and there, one on top of the other, as if he was trying to catch a fish. He finally scooped his hands together after a few moments, looked at them, and beamed. He got to his feet and raced to the front door. Chris moaned._ Oh no, he's found something...

_This certainly wasn't the first time Roy had brought an animal home with him, exaggerating the animal's dire situation and how it absolutely needed Roy to take care of it. The first time had been an injured sparrow that had had the misfortune of coming across Snowball when he hadn't been fed yet. Roy snagged it from the cat before the cat could kill it, but it was obvious to Chris that it didn't have long in this world. Chris moved to meet Roy at the front door so he didn't track mud into the club and placed her hands on her hips as he came pounding up the concrete steps, his muddy hands keeping a firm but gentle hold on whatever was in them._

_"Look! Look!" He said cheerfully, holding his hands up and completely ignoring the scowl on Chris's face. "It was lying still in the mud, I think it was injured by Snowball, but managed to get away. Mom, it's hurt real bad."_

_At this point, Roy looked up at Chris, and she could practically see the beginning of his stream of begging forming in his eyes._

_"If you would just give me a chance, I could take care of it. I would take complete responsibility for it and feed it and-"_

_Roy_ _cut himself off when Chris raised her hand. He prepared himself for the denial that always greeted him at opportunities like this. But not this time. This time he was determined to win this one out. This time-_

_"What is it?" Chris asked, eying Roy's muddy hands._

_Roy_ _blinked. His adopted mother had never before cared what kind of animal it was. If it had fur or feathers or scales, it was an automatic 'no'. But something was different in her eyes this time. Roy looked down at his hands and opened them ever so slightly._

_"Um, I think it's a newt," Roy said as he felt the tiny animal squirm in his hands._

_Chris leaned down closer as Roy presented the animal to her. It was still covered in mud, but she could tell by its flat, broad head and slimy skin that it was some kind of amphibian. Its right front leg was missing, but barely bleeding. Its tail swished agitatedly. Chris sighed. It wasn't exactly what she had in mind, but it would do for now._

_"Take off your shoes, and don't let it go," Chris stated. The look on Roy's face was better than she thought it would be. No matter how strict or tough she tried to be around him, his pure unimaginable joy always turned her insides warm and fluffy._

_Roy_ _toed his shoes off and stepped into the club. He followed Chris behind the bar and into the small, barely used kitchen. Chris brought down a bowl from the pantry and Roy dumped the newt into it. She ran water over the creature, rinsing the mud off into the sink. Roy and Chris both leaned over the bowl to get a better look at the now clean creature._

_Its body was black and slender, with small dapples of light gray. Its feet were more like paws, and its tail was fat and short. Chris had to admit, now that the thing wasn't covered in mud, it was actually pretty cute. She put her hands on her hips and faced Roy, who immediately straightened with an anxious look on his face._

_"Okay, Roy," she said sternly. "I'll help you set up the proper home for this little guy, but after that, it's all up to you. You think you can handle it?"_

_Just when she thought Roy's eyes couldn't go any wider, they were the size of dinner plates, and his smile was so big she could count all of his teeth. He jumped on her, laughing at the top of his lungs and kissed his beloved guardian. She laughed and pulled him off of her, trying not to be angry about the mud that now stained the front of her dress._

_"It's your responsibility now, Roy-boy," she said kneeling down to his eye level. "It's not just a toy. This is a living organism. It's relying on you to take care of it."_

_"I understand, mom," Roy said, unable to keep his smile off of his face. She smiled at him and kissed him on the forehead._

_"Your first order of business," she said, "Give it a name."_

_Roy looked into the bowl and down at the newt, who had seemed to have calmed down and was looking up at Roy expectantly._

_"I've got it," he said, a gentle smile on his face. "Freckles."_

_Chris burst with laughter at the sheer simplicity, yet appropriateness, of the name._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment and tell me what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Is this fandom still alive? I'm not sure, I hope it never dies. There was never enough chimera!roy to be found, so I went ahead and decided to contribute something to that. Next chapter will be longer!
> 
> Please comment and tell me what you think!


End file.
